Only A Shrine, But Mine

poem 918

Only a Shrine, but Mine I made the Taper shine Madonna dim, to whom all Feet may come, Regard a Nun Thou knowest every Woe Needless to tell thee so But can’st thou do The Grace next to it heal? That looks a harder skill to us Still just as easy, if it be thy Will To thee Grant me Thou knowest, though, so Why tell thee?